


Sunshine and Unicorns

by der_tanzer



Series: Between Carson and King Harbor [8]
Category: Emergency!, Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray’s working hard at recovery, but sometimes a day off is the best medicine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine and Unicorns

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of semi-inspired by Oddmonster, as are so many things.  
> 

Murray sighed through a smile, trying to be patient as Cody buttoned his shirt for him. He’d already had to tolerate Nick standing him on his feet while Cody pulled up his pants and zipped his fly. The belt was almost as bad. And now he was sitting on the edge of the bed letting Cody button his shirt, which wasn’t even a falling hazard. It was sort of cute when Johnny did it, but this was just degrading.

“I can have done that,” he said when Cody fumbled and scratched his chest with one fingernail.

“Not if you want to have breakfast before lunch,” Nick muttered. Murray sighed again and he felt bad, but not bad enough to apologize. It had been a long summer.

“ _Danke_ ,” Murray said, unable to think of the word _thanks_ when his feelings were hurt. But Nick’s were hurt now, too, so it was okay.

“Speaking of breakfast,” Cody interrupted, “weren’t you going to make something?”

“Have you got this?”

“Yes, he’s got this,” Murray said angrily. Then he blushed, ashamed of his outburst. He hated being talked about, as if he were a car or a boat that they were working on, but that didn’t excuse his ingratitude. He _was_ grateful. The problem was that his emotional control was as shaky as his motor skills and things had a tendency to slip out.

“It’s okay,” Nick said, not even sure which one he was speaking to. “I’ll go cook and you two come up when you’re ready.”

Murray nodded and Cody said something cheerful. Nick smiled, a little forced but better than nothing, and went to make breakfast.

“I’m sorry I'm taking so much trouble.”

“You’re not,” Cody said gently. “And we aren’t doing anything we don’t want to.”

“Too much work,” Murray said, watching Cody’s nimble fingers do up his buttons. He stopped two buttons short of the top, as those were difficult and Murray didn’t like the feel of knuckles against his throat.

“You’re my best friend,” Cody reminded him, both knowing that Nick went without saying. “I _want_ to work for you, buddy. I want you to get better, no matter what. You’d do it for me, right?”

“Can’t do anything for anything. Anyone,” he corrected himself, and Cody smiled. He was catching his own mistakes more often, and while it didn’t seem to comfort Murray, Johnny assured them that it was a good sign.

“You’ve done a lot for us. You’re one of us, remember? Here, what shoes do you want?”

“No.”

“No shoes?”

“Not going anything. I mean doing anywhere. _Going anywhere_. Damn it, Cody…”

“Easy, Murray. It’s okay.”

“Stop patronizing me,” he cried, jerking away from Cody’s competent hands. He lost his balance and fell over backward on the bed. Cody caught him before he hit his head on the wall but Murray wasn’t grateful anymore.

“Hey, I’m not patronizing you, buddy. I’m just saying calm down. You have a whole day still to get through, so don’t blow all your energy before breakfast.”

“I don’t have energy. I can’t do anything unicorn.”

“That’s not true. You’re talking in poetry now.”

“You’re not helping.” Murray had mostly lost the word _anymore_ and was substituting _unicorn_ for it, as well as for a few others.

“Sure I am. Come on, babe. Let’s go get some breakfast.” He slipped his hands under Murray’s arms and lifted him to his feet.

“I can’t live like this,” Murray whispered.

“Yes, you can.” Cody walked beside him holding his elbows, one arm supporting his back. Murray shuffled slowly out of the cabin, leaning heavily on his friend. At the bottom of the stairs, Cody tightened his grip and lifted him in both arms, stoically ignoring Murray’s embarrassed sigh. Somehow this just wasn’t getting any easier.

Murray insisted on walking from the top of the stairs to the table, where Cody steadied him by the shoulders as he bent his trembling knees and tried to sit. It was successful in that he didn’t lose his balance and hit his head on the table this time, but he would have if Cody hadn’t been so alert. Nick brought up platters of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and set them out, pretending not see Cody sitting there with his arm around Murray’s shoulders, holding him up and looking so like a lover. He hated himself a little for the dart of jealousy that shot through him, and feared his friends would hate him, too, if they knew. As if to make up for his secret shame, he filled their plates for them and cut up Murray’s pancakes and bacon. The bacon was hard to cut but it was better than feeding it to him with their fingers. They’d tried that, but it turned out to be another of those things that was only cute when Johnny did it. When Cody did it, Murray cried.

He did allow Cody to feed him with a fork, but only because he liked his breakfast hot. When they had cold meals, he used his adaptive equipment and spent an hour getting through it on his own. The guys were proud of him for managing, but at the same time it was hard to watch him struggle. Some days it seemed like none of them could win.

***

Murray was back in bed when Johnny got there two hours later. That wasn’t a good sign. Usually he waited in the salon when he knew his lover was coming.

“How’s it going?” he asked Nick, who was slouched down in a chair looking at a magazine without really reading it.

“It’s one of those days.”

“How bad? Is he okay?”

“He’s just frustrated and depressed,” Nick said, putting down the magazine. “I don’t even know what to do for him anymore. He’s starting to resent us and I don’t blame him.”

“Did he do anything for himself today, or were you in a hurry?”

“Don’t judge me, okay? He was hungry but he wanted to get dressed before he ate. We were in a corner.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been there. Look, I’ll see if I can cheer him up and maybe he’ll want to do something later. And if he doesn’t, you and Cody should go out anyway. You need a break. ”

“We only put in twenty-four hours and there are two of us. You’re going to do the next forty-eight by yourself?”

“I never said don’t come back.”

“Well, see if you can get him to come out first. It’s a nice day for doing the boardwalk. Warm enough for ice cream, but not too many tourists.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He offered an encouraging smile and went down to the cabin, leaving Nick mystified as to how he did it. How could a man fight fires and respond to grisly accidents for twenty-four hours straight, and then come out here and nurse an angry, dependent lover for another two days and nights? Nick, who had been to war and almost certainly done things just as hard, had forgotten that motivation was everything.

Johnny pushed the door open silently and paused to take in the sight of the fragile man, sleeping on top of the blankets, still fully dressed. He even had his glasses on, and Johnny could imagine the conversation that must have taken place there. Murray would have insisted that he could take them off if he wanted to, and then refused to call for help when he couldn’t. It seemed like every day he insisted on doing something that he couldn’t do and then suffered the consequences in bitter silence. No wonder he was so angry.

There was a single rattan chair down here and he moved it closer to the bed where he could sit and watch Murray sleep. It wouldn’t last much longer. He knew the schedule very well. Sure enough, Murray woke just a few minutes later.

“Johnny?” he murmured instinctively, not knowing for sure if his lover was there but wanting him to be. The very name was a talisman, his protection from fear and pain. He reached to rub his eyes, needing to see the figure that sat so close. It was easier to get his hand to his face while lying down, but his fingers fumbled with his glasses and fell away.

Either of his friends, wanting to spare him any more frustration, would have taken his glasses off for him. But Johnny slipped his hand under Murray’s elbow and lifted his arm so he could try again. This time he succeeded in pushing them up on his forehead, then rubbed his sleepy eyes and settled his glasses back in place.

“ _Gracias_. Johnny, how many have you been here?”

“How long? Just a few minutes. Nick said you were having a rough day.”

“Tired of this. I want to do some—something.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey, you want to blow off therapy today?”

“Tell me a truth,” Murray said very carefully. “Is it really going to—is it—helping? Am I better?”

“Of course you’re better. You just got your glasses off and on again. You couldn’t do that a month ago.”

“You helped.”

“Sure, but still—a month ago, I had to help a lot more. It’s slow, and you hate it, and it’s hard to keep hoping, but you _are_ getting better.”

“Then I need to—to do therapy, I guess.”

“Okay. But we’ll keep it short and then you can do some programming if you want.”

“My typing sucks.”

“Maybe. But I bet it sucked before, at some point in the distant past, and you got good at it. You’ll get good again.”

“I know, I know. _Practice_.” He spat the word out like a poison, detected just in time.

“That’s right, baby. Practice. Now, do you want to change your clothes before we start?”

“No. I’ll change before.”

“You want to change after we’re done?”

“That’s what I said,” he snapped.

“Sorry. I must’ve misunderstood.” Johnny moved to the edge of the bed and kissed him sweetly, improving his mood just a little. Then he started the routine they did every day, resistance exercises for his arms and legs, stretching his neck, sitting himself up—which was still just out of reach, but Johnny helped—and finally standing to take a few steps. If Murray had been in better condition before all this he would probably be walking by now. But he could only be what he was, and it was that man that Johnny loved.

“What do you want to do next?” he asked, after settling Murray in the rattan chair.

“I want to go for a walk on the beach,” Murray said bitterly.

“I’ll take you. I’m serious, baby. I’ll put you in shorts and a t-shirt and carry you on my back up and down the beach all day. What do you say?”

“Forget it. I was kidding.”

“No, you weren’t. Look, I know you’re ashamed of something but I don’t get what. And I hate that you’re letting it keep you down here, hiding from your friends and your life and the whole world.” He crouched down at Murray’s feet and rested his forearms on his knees. “You need to break out somehow. Take some kind of step outside. I’ll help you do anything, anything at all.”

“I can’t. Johnny—I…” He trailed off, lowering his head until he could reach his face with his hands.

“You what? Come on, baby, tell me what I can do.”

“Nothing. Just go amiss.”

“No, Murray, I’m not going away for another two days so you might as well talk to me.”

“I can’t,” he shouted. “I can’t talk!”

“Sure you can. You’re doing it right now.”

“To you. But outside… People—they knew me. I was a certainty.”

“A certainty? I don’t know that one.”

It was bad a time to need a correction. Murray pushed his fingers up under his glasses and choked back a sob.

“A _certainty_ ,” he repeated. “A cer—ce…”

“It’s okay, baby. Just go around it. Think of another word.”

“Famous,” Murray spat out. “Used to be. People know me. I go out there now and they pretty me. _Pity_ me. I look like dead and talk like a fool.”

“Honey, listen. What happened to you was bad. It was scary for everyone. Maybe more so for the rest of us because we were awake and scared to death while you were sleeping. And now that you’re awake, it’s a miracle. People come over to talk to you because they love you and they’re so glad just to see you. It doesn’t matter if you’re skinny and can’t rattle off three-syllable words fifty to a minute. It just matters that you’re alive and you still have a brain in your head.”

“Pity,” he repeated, shaking his head.

“What, like you’ve never been pitied before?”

Murray kicked out instinctively and hit him in the shin. Johnny was balanced precariously on the balls of his feet and fell over backward with a startled cry. Then he started to laugh.

“That’s better. Want to kick me again? It might be good therapy.”

“Hurt my toe.”

“So aim for a less bony spot next time.”

“You have one?”

“Not really.” He got up and crouched again, leaning intently into Murray’s space. “Come on, baby. Let me give you something.”

“You’re ashamed of being seen with me?”

“Not for a minute. Just tell me where you want to go and we’ll go.”

“I don’t want to kick you,” he said softly, and Johnny took it for an apology.

“I know, honey. So, do you want a shower before we go?”

“Where?”

“Where are we going? I don’t know. You still have to tell me. So what’ll it be? Shower or rubdown in bed?”

“Tired,” Murray sighed, trying to smile. “Bed?”

“You got it.” Johnny stood him up and supported him as he walked the short distance to the bed. It took a long time, Murray leaning heavily on Johnny’s arms, but when they got there, his smile was real. Johnny laid him down and went to the head for a basin of water and a cloth. They had a new soap that didn’t require rinsing, and though Murray didn’t like it as much as he did a real shower, he had to admit it was convenient. And there was something sweetly decadent about being bathed by his lover in his own bed. Or his roommates’ bed. He wasn’t in a mood to pick nits with Johnny undressing him and tenderly washing the sweat from his body. That took a little longer than strictly necessary, but they both enjoyed it too much to cut it short.

“Still wish you could shower alone?” Johnny teased, running the cloth up his inner thigh and through the creases of his scrotum.

“Oh, God, not now. Touch me always,” he groaned, lifting his pelvis into it. That was real progress, and Johnny’s grin widened as he stroked up Murray’s cock and squeezed.

“You don’t want me to stop?”

“No, I like. I like.”

But Johnny stopped anyway. He turned Murray onto this stomach and washed his back, caressing his bony butt playfully before turning him again. Murray could help a little that time. He couldn’t do a pushup if his life depended on it, but he was able to brace his elbows and roll his upper body while Johnny shifted his legs. Then, smiling a wicked little smile, he spread Murray’s legs and began stroking him again with the warm, wet cloth.

Murray shivered and thrust languidly into the soft/coarse fabric. He moaned softly at the gentle squeeze and release, trying to reach Johnny’s hand with his own, wanting to show him the perfect amount of pressure. Johnny was surprised when Murray’s right hand closed over his, but he didn’t call attention to it. The grip of those delicate fingers was stronger than it had been since the accident and he suspected Murray had just needed the right incentive.

He kept stroking, squeezing and caressing, fast enough to hold Murray’s interest but not so carelessly that he dislodged the guiding hand. Murray’s soft sighs turned to hungry moans, and then to broken whimpers as his orgasm drew near. Johnny leaned over, slid the cloth down the length of his shaft, and took the head in his mouth. Murray came hard, gasping for words and finding none, his fingers digging frantically between the bones of Johnny’s wrist. Johnny sucked him down, swallowing hungrily, and didn’t stop until Murray told him to.

“See?” he grinned, sitting back and wiping his mouth with his fingertips. “You made all kinds of progress right there.”

“I did?”

“Sure.” He held out his hand, showing Murray the deep red marks that encircled his wrist. “You couldn’t have done that a week ago. And you used your words, too. I’m telling you, it was just like old times.”

“Sorry about the bruises,” Murray said, but he was smiling rather proudly.

“Doesn’t bother me a bit. Now, what do you want to wear?”

“What about you?”

“What about me? I’m already dressed.”

“You don’t want unicorn in return?”

“Not right now. But later, tonight if you’re up to it, or maybe tomorrow, I’d like to lay you properly. If that’s okay with you.”

“Oh yes. Please,” he whispered, blushing as his eyes began to sparkle. As much as Johnny must want that, Murray thought he might want it even more.

“All right, then. So what do you want to wear now?”

Murray asked for his favorite jeans and the black fire department t-shirt he’d wheedled out of Johnny on his last birthday. It made him look thinner and paler somehow—no one would have denied that light blue would’ve been a better choice—but Murray didn’t notice and Johnny didn’t care. His only concern was that Murray sat up on the bed under his own power and didn’t topple over, even when Johnny was putting his shoes on him. What Murray did was infinitely more important than how he looked. That had always been true, and now was doubly so.

***

The three of them working together got Murray off the boat and onto the pier, settling him in his wheelchair with a minimum of fuss. He had to submit to the lap belt and chest strap, but since the random muscle spasms had ceased, they no longer had to restrain his arms and legs.

Johnny pushed him on the sidewalk while Nick and Cody walked just ahead—far enough so Murray’s footrests didn’t clip their ankles, but not so far that he felt left behind. They kept stopping to look at the water, or at something happening in the street, so it took nearly half an hour to reach the boardwalk. When they got there Murray looked around apprehensively at the crowd—small, but a crowd nonetheless—and craned his head back to catch Johnny’s eyes. Johnny smiled and ran his fingers through Murray’s overgrown hair, then let his hand rest on the bony shoulder.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I think—I want ice cream.”

“Great. There’s nothing I’d love more than to get you ice cream.”

Murray saw how he was smiling and knew he meant it. The four of them walked along, taking in the sights, nodding to people they knew but not stopping to talk, until they reached Murray’s favorite ice cream stand. Johnny bought him a strawberry cone dipped in chocolate and carried it while he pushed the chair one-handed over to a bench. He parked Murray beside it, his back to the crowd, and sat down so they were facing each other, almost side by side. Murray tried to take the cone but his hand shook so he was afraid of dropping it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes cast down in shame.

“For what?” Johnny held it out expectantly, close enough to bite. “You just have to share.”

“If you eat it all, you have—to buy—another,” Murray said with a smile and bit off the crunchy curl on top.

“It’s a deal.”

Johnny waited patiently while Murray ate some of the chocolate shell and licked up dripping strawberry. When he sat back to swallow and breathe, Johnny stole a bite. He’d never had strawberry and chocolate together but it was pretty good. When Murray wanted more he signaled it by leaning forward against his chest strap and Johnny held it out to him.

Nick and Cody sat on the bench, each with their own cones, and tried to watch without being obvious about it. Johnny made sure that Murray got most of the chocolate coating, only taking pieces for himself when they were about to fall off, and licking the drips that trailed toward his hand. With his judicious help, they kept the ice cream under control and Murray was able to eat as much as he wanted. He got tired midway through the sugar cone and Johnny finished it, but the mission was still a success. There was ice cream on his face and Johnny put a napkin in his hand, then held his elbow so he could wipe it off. It took a little longer, but Murray needed to be independent and his satisfied smile was worth any trouble.

Nick was the only one who heard the little boy on the boardwalk ask his father why two men were sharing an ice cream cone. He saw the father give them a disgusted look and then tone it down to explain to his son that they weren’t really. One was just a cripple and the other was his nurse. Nick wished he could say something, tell them that Murray wasn’t _just_ anything, and that he was more beloved than a narrow-minded bigot could ever understand, but it wasn’t worth exposing them for a moment of cheap satisfaction. He just ate his cone in seething silence, determined not to ruin Murray’s first day out. But if someone said something like that directly _to_ one of them, it would be a whole different matter.

Johnny took the used napkins, wadded them up, and stuffed them in his pocket. He wanted to kiss Murray, to lick the flavor of strawberry from his cool lips, and not being able to was the one blot on their lovely afternoon.

“What do you want to do next? We could go down to the arcade and you can watch me play skee-ball. I’ll win you a unicorn.”

Murray laughed and nodded happily. Since his accident, unicorn had become a joke between them. Murray had never had any special attachment to mythical horned horses, but the aphasia had for some reason brought the word to the forefront of his brain and there was no telling where it might appear.

“That sounds like fun,” Nick seconded. “Cody, you want me to win you a teddy bear?”

“Excuse me, but who’s the skee-ball champion around here?” Cody protested.

“I think I am,” Johnny grinned. “But there’s an easy way to find out.”

***

They staked out a skee-ball game, parking Murray’s chair beside it at a right angle where he could get the best view. Johnny went first and threw until he was out of quarters. He changed a twenty while Nick took his turn, and in the first comparison, Johnny was up by five tickets. Cody emptied his pockets and just barely beat Nick, but by the third accounting, Nick was on top. They played until Johnny was back in first place, and then he claimed that Murray wanted them to stop. When asked, Murray just bit his lips and looked at Johnny, leaving them no choice but to take his word. After all, he was the recognized authority on Murray-interpretation.

But they were pretty sure he was laughing at them while Johnny exchanged his tickets for a plush white unicorn with a purple mane, tail, and horn. They got partial revenge by pooling theirs for a bigger prize, and then were posed with the challenge of carrying around a giant polar bear. Nick solved their problem by generously passing it on to the first child who pointed and said she wanted it. Murray held onto his unicorn, child-like and unashamed. People would just think he was feeble-minded as well as physically disabled, and right now that didn’t bother him. Not as long as he could eat ice cream with the sun on his face and feel warm plush in his hands.

They didn’t play any more games, but they stopped to watch a few. Murray enjoyed the children throwing ping pong balls into goldfish bowls, which was how he got his first pet nearly thirty years ago. Not that he’d ever gotten the ball into the bowl, but he’d played one night until closing at a county fair, and since the fish didn’t have much of a lifespan anyway, the carnie had given him one before closing the booth. His mother was a good sport about it and filled an old candy jar with water and a little pea gravel from the front yard. Little Diem, as Murray named him, had lived until almost Christmas. The loss was mourned until Christmas Eve, when Murray received his second pet, a fluffy Lab puppy. He dried his tears on Beaker, who was admittedly a much more interactive friend, but he never forgot the uncomplicated joy of Diem, or the kindness of the teenage girl who took pity on a little boy with bad aim.

“You okay, hon?” Johnny asked, resting his elbows on the push handles and leaning over his shoulder. “You look lost in thought.”

“I like fish,” Murray shrugged.

“Yeah? You want me to get you one?”

“No, it’s okay. I had one once. Unicorns ago.”

“When you were a kid?”

“First pet. From a fair.”

“My first pet was a coyote puppy. I found it in a ditch when I was out riding and I thought it was a dog. It was sick so I took it home and nursed it back to health. It was three or four months before my dad took enough interest to figure it out it was a coy dog.”

“Did—did you keep it?”

“Yep. For a couple years. Then he started getting kind of wild, wanting to go off by himself and do coyote stuff. He came and went for a long time, dropped by once or twice a month to eat and say hi, and then he disappeared. Anyway, my folks got me a real dog after Coy started wandering. I think I was better off. Coy was fun, but nothing bonds itself to you like a dog.”

“I had—dog. After the fish. Someday I want another.”

“Me, too.” Johnny straightened up and squeezed his shoulder gently. Suddenly he wanted more than anything to be living with Murray. To have a house of their own, maybe in the hills where there wouldn’t be any near neighbors, and they could have a couple of dogs and some horses. He wanted to see Murray on a horse again even more than he wanted a dog. But he’d settle for seeing Murray walk.

“Johnny? Ich liebe dich,” he whispered, feeling secure that no one who might overhear would understand. Johnny would, because Murray had taught him key words and phrases months ago, just for fun. They could say _I love you_ in six languages, and _fuck me_ in eight.

“Yeah, me too. You want to go watch the target shooting?”

Murray shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood for guns.

“Carousel? I like the painted—the—the animals.”

“The horses are my favorite.”

“Mine, too.” He started backing Murray through the crowd, since there wasn’t room to turn around. Once they were away from the fish booth there was a lot more space to maneuver. Nick and Cody followed. The fish hadn’t interested them much to begin with.

“Where are we going next?” Cody asked, falling in beside Murray. Nick walked on the other side of the chair where he could hear them both.

“Horses,” Murray said, already having forgotten _carousel_. “Calliope.”

“The carousel? Sounds like fun,” Nick said. “Do you think you can ride it?”

“Probably not,” Johnny said, forgetting the number one rule: that Murray be allowed to speak for himself.

“Bet I could. Would you let me?”

“Let you? Well, sure.” The words were right, but he couldn’t quite keep the doubt from his voice. “You’re the boss.”

“Is that a good idea?” Nick asked, looking to Murray to make the call.

“You can make sure I don’t drive.” He paused, thought for a second, and said, “Jump. No, fall. Right? I won’t fall.”

“That’s right. If they’ll let us, we’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

The carousel horses were tall, but not quite so tall that Murray didn’t feel a little bit silly when Johnny and Cody walked him up onto the platform and put him on a bright gold horse with red and purple tack. The little kids around them were wearing leather safety belts that fastened to the poles, and Murray allowed Johnny to buckle his around his waist. Mostly because he did it as if it were a joke. They had to pay for three tickets, and again, everyone assumed that Murray was slow, possibly on an outing from a care home, but he forgot all that when the carousel began to turn. Johnny stood on the inside, his hand light but firm on Murray’s back, and Cody stood on the outside holding onto the pole. The horses picked up speed and Cody had trouble recognizing Nick in the sea of faces that flashed by, so he missed when his lover’s slightly condescending, better-you-than-me expression changed to a real grin of pleasure. It happened right around the time Murray started to laugh, not caring that he looked foolish or that he couldn’t even sit on a carved wooden horse without two attendants; not caring that the wind whipped his hair all around, into his eyes and mouth because he couldn’t stop his head from bobbing. Right now he was flying and the tears in his eyes were a combination of stinging hair and joy.

When the carousel stopped, Murray was dizzy and breathless and perfectly content to let Johnny carry him through the maze of horses and back to his chair. Nick was still standing there, arms crossed over his chest, looking as if he was guarding the stuffed unicorn that lay on the seat. When he saw them coming, he picked up the toy and waited while Johnny helped Murray get comfortable and strapped him in. Johnny adjusted his glasses, finger-combed his messy hair, and took the unicorn from Nick to tuck into Murray’s arms.

“You need a haircut, babe.”

“Okay. Thank you, Johnny.”

“For what? I’m not cutting your hair.”

“Unicorns,” Murray said. Then he knit his brow, knowing that was the wrong word but not quite grasping the right one. “No, not—but, yes,” he said, petting the plush unicorn in confusion.

“Horses?” Johnny suggested. “The carousel?”

“Yes. Thank you. But this, too.”

“My pleasure. You ready for something to eat? I bet you could manage a corndog by yourself.”

“Yeah, I like corndogs.”

“Great. And maybe an elephant ear? Because, man, I love fried dough.”

“Mmm. Sugar and cinnamon. But corndog first.”

Johnny turned to their friends with his trademark brilliant grin.

“You heard the man. Where do we get a corndog around here?”

***

They went home after the elephant ear, which Johnny convinced Murray to eat almost half of, and sat on the deck to watch the sun go down over the Pacific. It was the first sunset that any of them had deliberately watched in months and Murray wasn’t sure if it was because of that, or maybe because he was having such a good day, but it was quite possibly the most beautiful one he’d ever seen.

He saw it from the fantail, curled on the bench, his body tucked between Johnny’s thighs and held securely in his strong arms. Maybe it would arouse suspicion, if there was actually anyone left at the harbor who didn’t know for sure, but Murray was prepared to defend it by sacrificing his dignity if need be. He could say that he couldn’t sit up on his own and it would be believed. But he really just wanted to relax, all warm and safe in the softness of Johnny’s flannel shirt. He was glad to be through the period where he slept all the time so that he could enjoy a day on the boardwalk and still be awake when the sun went down. And maybe a little longer, assuming Johnny hadn’t changed his mind.

When it was almost full dark, Johnny carried him inside and down the stairs. Murray walked with his help into the head and let Johnny bathe him properly in the shower, washing off the heat and sweat of the day. The cool water revived him, made him feel awake and frisky. Johnny dried him off and put him in bed, then went to get his own shower, hurrying for fear that Murray would fall asleep. But when he returned to the cabin, wrapped in a towel and still drying his hair, Murray was lying there with his eyes wide open and an inviting smile on his face.

“Hey, sweetheart. You waited for me? Aren’t you tired?”

“Not too tired. You said you wanted you wanted to—to get laid. I do, too.”

“Good. You want your contacts?”

“No. No glasses. I want to—feel.”

“You want to feel? No visual distractions this time?”

“ _Da_. Make love to me. However you want. But—inside me. We need…”

“Yeah, we do,” Johnny agreed. He sat down and removed Murray’s glasses, laying them carefully on the bedside table. “I’ve missed you so much, Brown Eyes.”

“You’re really still attack—attracted—to me?”

“Am I? Oh, baby, are you kidding?” He untied the towel and climbed under the blanket, kissing his way up Murray’s sunken chest to pause and lick his collarbones. The right had scars over it where the bone had broken the skin and Johnny always lavished attention on those long red welts. He worked his way up the slender throat and sucked an earlobe into his mouth, biting it tenderly. Murray groaned and gripped Johnny’s upper arms in both hands, the right nearly as strong now as the left. He was still scrawny, still weak and unsteady on his feet, but in bed his body was relearning grace.

Johnny kissed him all over, tickling with fingertips and darting tongue. He showered affection on every inch of Murray’s skin, biting his nipples and licking the hollows behind his knees with the same attentive enthusiasm that he gave to his throbbing cock. He sucked dark bruises on the delicate wings of Murray’s shoulder blades while stroking and stretching his tight entrance, soothing away the tension born of months of neglect. Murray writhed and moaned, hands fisting helplessly in his pillowcase as he thrust against the mattress. Johnny massaged his prostate until he sobbed, relishing Murray’s pleasure as if it were his own.

“J-John—please,” he gasped. “Please—t-t-take me. Please.”

“How? Tell me what you want, baby.”

But he couldn’t. Murray stuttered and stammered, trying to get the words out, but they just wouldn’t come. At least not before he did.

“You want to sit up?” Johnny asked, his lips tickling the back of Murray’s neck. “That’s your favorite, right? You want to ride me like a carousel horse?”

“Unicorn,” Murray whispered.

“Is that a yes, or a suggestion?”

“Yes. Want to ride my unicorn.”

“Face or back?” he asked, already putting on a condom. Murray wouldn’t want to shower again tonight, and besides, they both hated sleeping in the wet spot.

“Face, please. Let me see you.”

Johnny kissed him between the shoulder blades and moved over to sit beside him. Murray pushed himself up on his elbows and Johnny helped him rise up on his knees. He wrapped his arms Johnny’s neck and straddled his slim thighs. Johnny held his hip with one hand and his own cock in the other, guiding their bodies together with exquisite care.

Murray tensed, then took a deep breath and let himself relax. He rested his head on Johnny’s shoulder and sank onto his long, gently curved shaft. Johnny held his hips, supporting him as he worked it deeper in slow, easy thrusts. Murray leaned into him, pressing his cock to Johnny’s belly, and arched his back with many a happy sigh. He wriggled and shifted until the head of the hard shaft was seated firmly against his gland, groaning his pleasure as Johnny rocked him, helping him to thrust.

“I’m gonna come in a minute,” Johnny whispered. “You’re so hot, baby. I can’t wait.”

“Touch me,” Murray panted. “Jerk me and I—I’ll—come. Fast.”

He tightened his left arm around Murray’s waist and moved his right hand to his cock, stroking and squeezing, milking sweet moans from him along with beads of slick pre-come. Murray bucked frantically, showing more strength in his passion than anyone who saw him recently would believe he possessed. He bit down on Johnny’s shoulder and came with a stifled shriek, his body wracked with uncontrollable spasms as fireworks went off behind his eyes. Johnny held him close, cradling the back of his neck in that way that always made him feel so safe and loved. Murray trembled and shuddered in his arms, dimly aware of the hardness within him, but more concerned with whether or not he would ever regain control of his limbs.

“Are you okay?” Johnny whispered, lightly massaging his neck.

“Y-yes. God, yes.” His hips thrust involuntarily and he whimpered, overwhelmed.

“You need to lie down. You’re all worn out, aren’t you?” As he spoke, Johnny was sitting forward, angling his body and sliding himself out as he lay Murray on the bed.

“You need to finish,” Murray said, smiling shakily.

“No, I’m okay,” he lied, already anxious to get to the head and do just that.

“I’m not. Please. I—I—need…you have to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s g-good, John. I—I want—more.”

“Okay, but we’ll be careful. You want to turn over? Would that be easier?”

“Yes, good.” He touched Johnny’s chest with trembling fingers and flicked his nipple lightly. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and Johnny helped him roll over. His overly-sensitive cock twitched as he pressed into the mattress, and he couldn’t help thrusting even though it was so intense as to nearly be painful. It got both better and worse when Johnny slipped into him again, sending darts of sweet agony shooting through his belly into his chest where it bloomed in pure pleasure. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned, trying to push back into that glorious pain. His body, drained of all strength now, refused to comply, but Johnny felt the effort and thrust harder, letting Murray’s expressive moans guide him.

Johnny came with a soft cry, driving himself deep into the tight warmth of his lover’s body. He trembled and gasped, holding onto Murray’s arms as he tried to catch his breath.

“Don’t go,” Murray whispered. “Stay with me.”

“For a minute,” Johnny agreed. But he had to withdraw when he started to go soft, for fear of losing the rubber. “Are you still okay?” he asked as he pulled away and reached for the tissues.

“Y-yes. Johnny, that was so nice. I—I’ve—m-missed…” he swallowed hard and tried again, but the words still wouldn’t come.

“I know, baby, me too. It’s okay.” For a moment he just sat there, lightly stroking the scars of pressure sores on Murray’s shoulders, ass and thighs. He wanted to run, he almost always did after the most intense connection had been achieved, but even Johnny Gage knew that tonight he absolutely must not do that. If he slipped out on Murray right now it would take much more advanced relationship skills than he currently possessed to repair the damage. So he settled for sitting by Murray’s hip, hiding behind his back, touching him enough so Murray knew he was there, but keeping his own body free.

“Missed you,” Murray sighed, not opening his eyes. He didn’t feel the same anxieties as Johnny, but he understood that many men did. Some were cuddlers and others could only be vulnerable for a few minutes at a time before they had to escape and man-up again. Murray was a cuddler and he would get what he wanted, but only if he let Johnny recover first. It was the price he paid for being loved by an archetypal man, a man so steeped in heterosexual stereotypes that he was still trying to work out who he really was. Maybe one night Johnny would slide out of him and lie down right away, kiss and cuddle him before their hearts had stopped racing and their sweat began to dry—in other words treat him the way Ted used to—but Murray wasn’t pinning his hopes on it. He loved this good man deeply, he wouldn’t trade him for anything, and that meant taking him as he was.

Johnny sat and traced his fingertips tenderly over the pink scars for a good five minutes before asking Murray how he wanted to be positioned. When Murray said he wanted to lie on his side and be cuddled, Johnny helped him to turn over and held him close.

“Te quiero, unicorn,” Murray whispered, settling his head on Johnny’s shoulder.

“Mí también,” he replied softly, kissing the pale forehead. “Did you have a good time today? It wasn’t too much?”

“I had a g-great time. Sweet. You got—unicorn.”

“That’s what you’re going to remember about all this?” Johnny stretched out one arm and snagged the plush toy off the nightstand. He tucked it into the crook of Murray’s elbow where he could feel it against his own chest. Maybe it was silly, but it was also kind of nice.

“I—I’ll remember—everything.”


End file.
